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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880386">The Worst of Two Worlds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenbriarxrose/pseuds/Greenbriarxrose'>Greenbriarxrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Shadow World Setting (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Baz is the head of the Watford Vampire clan, Crossover, F/M, Investigations, M/M, Much tension ensues, Mystery, Simon is a shadowhunter, Watford (Simon Snow)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:22:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenbriarxrose/pseuds/Greenbriarxrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon is a Shadowhunter and Baz is a vampire, specifically the Head of the Watford vampire clan. Strange things are taking place in Watford and something needs to be done about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Carry On Countdown 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>“Look, I don’t give a damn over what the Accords say, I see no reason as to why I should care about what you <em>Nephilim </em>think.” His eyes are pitch black and depthless as he leers, a fanged tooth peeking out from between his blood red lips. His skin is pale, like candle wax and the light of the full moon that’s just starting to shine through the window behind him seems to almost travel through his very being. A vampire, through and through.</p></div><div class=""><p>Simon was starting to lose his patience with this creature of the night dressed in his impeccable floral print suit, scowling at him.</p></div><div class=""><p>“And I, don’t really care about what you have to say. I understand that it’s the full moon and a time of revelry for your people, <em>sir</em>, but as you know, for the safety of the Mundanes of Watford I’m afraid I will have to be present at this function of yours to make sure that things...stay in check.” he finally pauses to take a breath and meets his adversary’s glare with one of his own. “Believe me when I say that I’m not particularly looking forward to it either.”</p></div><div class=""><p>The vampire tilts his head to the side and gazes at him with a look of speculation and Simon tries hard not to flush at being studied so intently. He manages to keep his poker face on though, unrelenting and unwilling to give up.</p></div><div class=""><p>Finally, after what seems like hours the vampire grins. It’s a slow grin, an empty one. One which spoke of hostility not mirth. It sets Simon on edge.</p></div><div class=""><p>“Alright Shadow boy, I surrender. I suppose we’ll just have to put up with your oh-so-angelic presence at tonight’s party.”</p></div><div class=""><p>Before Simon can inwardly heave a sigh of relief at this pronouncement despite the included insult, the dark haired man’s face suddenly appears two inches away from his own. Coal eyes framed by dark lashes are all he can see. He had moved swiftly, so swiftly that even Simon’s honed Shadowhunter skills did not pick up on the movement. The thought rankles him.</p></div><div class=""><p>He grins that grin again. His long hair is brushing against his jaw and his scent is tangy and slightly metallic, with an overlying hint of a perfume that smells like expense. </p></div><div class=""><p>“But don’t blame me if our revel isn’t quite what you’re used to.”</p></div><div class=""><p>Those eyes are surprisingly captivating. He’d been wrong, they were not depthless, in fact they seemed to go on for miles and miles, a window into some unknown realm.</p></div><div class=""><p>In the name of Raziel, was he really ruminating over a hostile vampire’s eyes when he was being not so subtly threatened by said vampire?</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t worry sir. I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you’ve got.” He injects as much thinly veiled scorn into that statement as he possibly can.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This time when the vampire’s smile widens there actually seems to be a hint of humour behind it. Before Simon can see more of it though, he pulls back, seating himself back again behind his dark mahogany desk as if he’d never left.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wonder if you can.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, well, we shall see. Until midnight then.” Gathering what remained of his dignity Simon begins to make his exit from the Head vampire’s study</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh and, Shadow Boy?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s tempted to keep walking in pretend ignorance, to show his annoyance at that moniker, but he manages to resist.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The moonlight is starting to grow stronger as it shines through the metal barred window, glowing behind the vampire in an effect that is both intriguing and terrifying. Much like this man himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He clears his throat, “Yes?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When you arrive, don’t forget to mention my name at the gate, else you might be mistaken for a mundane sacrificial lamb.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Simon raises a copper brow. “Very well, Mr. Basilton Pitch.” It’s the first time he’s referred to him by his name, even in his errant thoughts. The idea of this person having a name made him seem so much more real and, for whatever reason, that scared Simon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The fangs make a reappearance as his lips curve upwards. “Until tonight, then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>* * *</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The room is lit by a generous array of lit candles in their elaborate metal sconces that line the stone wall. Crystal chandeliers draped with red banners hand from the ceiling, the candle lights reflecting off of the shiny material. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The atmosphere is loud and so is the music being played on a piano by some unseen pianist and it's just like being in an upscale and elegant mundane soiree, except for the fact that the inhabitants of this room were all vampires.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Vampires eyeing him with looks of volatile hatred that make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. His Shadowhunter instincts are on full alert in this room full of predators and his body is tense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chooses a position by the wall, next to a hanging tapestry of a...mundane group of singers? Simon wasn’t too well versed in mundane culture, having been raised as a Shadowhunter by an institute head after his parent’s tragic deaths when he was just a baby, but he was pretty sure that the tapestry was an elaborate depiction of a famous band called, King? Or was it Queen? Yes, Queen, it must have been that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His brain is about to explode at the strangeness of this whole scenario. He’s regretting ever having said yes to taking on this assignment, especially whilst his Parabatai was off visiting her family, so he was completely alone. But no, he was Nephilim and his job was to keep the peace and that was what he would do.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stands up straighter and is just considering moving inconspicuously towards the food table where mouth watering dishes appear to have been laid out along with glasses of animal blood, for the vampires who were old and experienced enough to enjoy mortal food, when from the corner of his eyes he clocks the sight of someone walking towards him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Immediately he whirls around in a defensive stance, prepared to engage in battle with a violent blood sucker and instead he is met with the sight of an amused Basilton Pitch in an even more elaborate and floral suit than the last one. It seemed ridiculous that he could pull it off but he definitely did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I see you Shadowhunters like to relax when at a party.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re Shadowhunters. The word ‘relax’ is not in our vocabulary.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pitch snorts. “I bet it’s more that the word ‘relax’ is not present within the sacred laws of the Clave.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His voice is tinged with sarcasm and Simon is immediately on the offense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“At least we’re civilised enough to have laws, rather than running free and rampant, harming innocent Mundanes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You Nephilim, always thinking that you are somehow above us. Better than us. That it’s alright to generalise the Downworlders. Look around you, these people, they’re intellectuals, they've had years to gain knowledge and culture, more civilised than some of your own.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And yet, they could not be trusted to conduct themselves at a party.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Only because the Clave refuses to trust in us. There’s only so much time before you start becoming someone that others think of you as.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Simon tries to think of a sharp and cutting response, but he finds his brain mulling over the Vampire’s intense words. Basilton’s eyes seem to almost be imploring him, asking him for understanding.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> It was true, despite all the things whispered about the vampires, in all his years as a Shadowhunter he’d never actually come across a case of vampire’s slaughtering innocents mercilessly excepting perhaps a rogue vampire or two, newly turned and unused to their strange instincts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s an uncertain pause before Pitch seems to reel himself back in, back into the polished facade of the vampire who didn’t give a damn about what people thought.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a distinct change of tone and subject he says “Have a drink; what’s your poison?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Simon gives him a sceptical look. A look meant to indicate his thoughts,<em> no I will not have a drink...why? Because I am on duty. Also because I strongly suspect that the special on the drinks menu for tonight is Blood and I tend to only drink that on the First of November at precisely 11.24 pm, so thank you but no thank you Mr. Vampire.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mr. Vampire lets out a low chuckle, almost as if he could hear Simon’s thoughts. “Bad choice of words, perhaps?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Perhaps.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Very well then. Enjoy the revel.” He grabs a cocktail glass filled with deep crimson blood from a passing waiter’s tray as he leaves to go and mingle with his guests, before turning back and adding. “Oh and Simon?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before Simon has time to wonder just how he knew his name he continues. “Call me Baz from now on. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Simon is barely conscious of his actions as he slams open the abandoned castle door of the Watford Institute. The old stone walls of the building echo with the force of it and yet Simon is too busy recalling a pair of pitch black eyes to notice.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He trudges through the dimly lit corridors, ascending the wide wooden staircase, with one destination in mind; the training room on the second floor.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>But first, he had to report back to the Mage.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>That wasn’t the Mage’s real name of course, but it was the one that everyone knew him by. There were rumours that his true title was ‘Davy’ but Simon couldn’t resign that name with the enigmatic and powerful figure that the Mage represented. To him, the Mage was all-knowing, omnipotent and above all, his guardian, the Institute Head who’d provided a home for an abandoned orphan boy.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Said omnipotent, all knowing Institute Head was blinking up at him owlishly from behind his mahogany desk, his attention diverted from the tremendous tome which he’d been perusing before his charge had stormed in like an agitated werewolf.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Simon. Is anything wrong?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Nothing sir. I’m just reporting back after that vampire assignment you gave me.” Although his tone was as polite as usual, there’s an undercurrent to his words that spoke of his displeasure at having been assigned that particular task.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Ah, yes. I trust everything went well?’</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Absolutely swell,”  He hoped the sarcasm wasn’t too apparent.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Right…” the Mage was eyeing him curiously, head tilted to the side, probably trying to ascertain his mood before seeming to let it go. “Well then, run along and do what you will, you’re off duty for the rest of the night.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Thank you sir.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The training room was the perfect place to vent his feelings. The burn in his biceps as he swings from bar to bar is a welcoming distraction from the turmoil of his thoughts. Thoughts which seemed to consist mostly of blood red cocktails, a pair of fangs and a tailored suit with a floral pattern. It seemed ridiculous that one infuriating blood sucker could push him so off balance, but there he was, so completely off-kilter.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>That arrogant vampire. <em>Baz</em>, his brain reminded him. Well <em>Baz </em>could go to hell. How dare he make such insinuations about Shadowhunters? </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The Nephilim were what glued the supernatural community together. They were the overseers, the protectors. Without them the Magickal society would fall to pieces.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Why was this encounter bothering him so much?</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He was used to Downworlder scorn, used to things like angry Warlocks knocking on the Institute’s door demanding that they be allowed to sell their services to mortals, services that would end in disaster if allowed. He’d never once before questioned the rules governing the other supernatural species, never once hesitated to tell an ambitious Downworlder ‘No’ and yet…</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He jumps down from the bar he’d been hanging from, landing effortlessly on his feet. The tough leathery punching bag close by proves to be a good victim to take his frustrations out on.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Expensive cologne. <em>A punch from the left.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Stupid not-even-truly-British accents. <em>A punishing right hook.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>A condescending smile framed by sculpted lips. <em>A vicious roundhouse kick.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He hated this.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He needed someone to talk to. He needed Penelope.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He pulls away from the quivering bag and heads to the benches to swipe a wet towel over his sweaty face before hanging it around his neck as he squirts water onto his parched tongue. Merlin, for exactly how long had he been training?</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The secret mundane phone that he kept back on the table in his room told him that the time was currently 4.00 am in the morning, meaning he’d been training for a cool two hours at a stretch after having gotten back from the revel at around 2.00. Wonderful. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Even better, he had training with Agatha in four short hours. Well, he’d better get what sleep he could.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He swipes open his lockscreen before typing a quick message to his Parabatai.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>Vampires are terrible. Yes, I know, they rarely suck on human blood and when they do it’s not always harmful but Crowley, Penny you haven’t met the Head Vampire of the Watford Clan. He’s a bloody arsehole. </em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Having delivered that missive he heads off to get ready for bed.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Agatha is a lot less enthusiastic than usual at training this morning and that’s really saying something as she was never really all that enthusiastic to begin with. In fact, if Simon didn’t know any better he’d think that she resented being a Shadowhunter. Impossible. Being Nephilim was an honour.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Simon! Stop attacking me with that thing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Simon had barely been moving his practice blade and yet Agatha seemed to think the false blade posed enough of a threat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He just barely suppresses a long-suffering sigh. “Agatha, that’s the whole point of training. We pretend to attack each other so we’ll be prepared for actual attacks.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I really don’t see the point of training for an attack. Nothing fun ever happens around here anyways.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing fun. As if fights and wars and people being injured was <em>fun</em>. Biting back a retort he simply says, “Still, it’s always a good idea to be prepared.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh very well.” With a long suffering sigh of her own she finally raises her blade in an half-hearted attempt to parry him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Practice goes worse than usual, but Simon’s day had been off even before then, he’d woken up to no messages from Penny who was usually up at the crack of dawn but he’d chalked it down to possible exhaustion from travelling. Not that she’d really gone all that far either. It felt weird to not have her frizzy haired self nearby. They’d been almost inseparable since even before they were twelve, when it had become time for him to decide who he’d have as a parabatai, Simon didn’t even have to think twice before deciding on Penny.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was a force of nature and a constant presence; always there, always dependable. She also had a penchant for reading him way too easily.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn’t truly start panicking however, he’s willing to give her silence the benefit of the doubt at least for the moment, after all, his parabatai rune wasn’t giving off any odd signals. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then, the phone call happened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Professor Bunce sounds hurried and displeased. “Simon, can you please remind Penelope to not forget to bring an extra pillow and bedsheet with her when she gets here and do tell her to answer my calls.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Professor Bunce,” the panic is rising in his voice, he can almost taste it, like bile traveling up his throat. “Penelope left for home yesterday. She should have been there by now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a long pause. So long that Simon has to pinch himself to make sure that this is indeed reality. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Simon, what are you saying? Surely you know where my daughter is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, Professor.” His voice is cracked. “I don’t.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Originally a short one shot in this AU written for the Carry On Countdown, but thanks to a surprising demand for more via AO3 and Tumblr is now a multi-chap, hopefully, you’ll join me for the ride. Huge thanks to all the lovely people who left comments and kudos, this chapter exists thanks to y'all:))</p><p>I'll try and get chapter 3 up soon🌺</p><p>I'm @dirigibledinosaur on Tumblr, come find me if you like.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey so let me know if you'd like to read more with this AU Crossover setting and I might add more chapters to this fic:)</p><p>I'm @dirigibledinosaur on tumblr, feel free to come chat with me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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